eternal spectators (i don't trust lonely people)
by wilfred the pickle
Summary: The BAU have a severe case of bystander syndrome when Reid comes back to work after Hankel. It doesn't escape his notice. {semi-tag to the big game & revelations, semi-exploration of the team's dynamics. warnings for ptsd and flashbacks, other warnings noted in relevant chapters.}
1. gideon

**A/N: ****So I've been sick again, and while in the hospital I churned out…whatever this is. I'm estimating six chapters, each dealing with a different team member, but updates will be sporadic since it's really just something to do for when I'm bored/anxious . I've been advised to keep a journal/diary/blog to help, but my life is boring so fanfiction is the best I can do. **

**Warning: some slight language.**

**Hope you enjoy! ; v ;**

* * *

><p><em>two minutes after<em>

Reid walks to the SUV alone, bony arms wrapped around his chest like a battered shield. His foot still aches and every bit of weight he puts on it makes the nerves there loudly complain, but he ignores it and carries on to where he knows his team is waiting. It's all just anatomy anyway; neurons and synapses going into overdrive, his body's way of telling him he needs to rest. His body isn't important - it's his brain that needs to be protected. Reid knows that he won't be able to rest until he's a hundred thousand miles away from Hankel's corpse, until his captor is festering six feet underground (or until he figures out a way to stop the onset of withdrawal syndromes - he knows what will happen if he doesn't get a fix, and doesn't particularly relish the thought of that particular experience).

As expected, Gideon is waiting for him a few yards ahead, falling behind the rest of the team to have a private conversation with his protégé, Reid assumes. The older agent gives him a grimace that's probably meant to be a smile.

"You're done?" As always with Gideon, his question has a deeper meaning, an endgame. Reid's too exhausted to figure out what the older man wants from him this time. Fine. If Gideon wants to ask some pseudo-psychological bullshit question, then Reid's going to give him a pseudo-psychological bullshit answer to match it.

"I did what I had to do," he says, slightly winded from his bruised (fractured?) ribs.

Gideon doesn't seem perturbed. "Good answer," he says, with a wise, fatherly undertone that irritates Reid more than it probably should. Reid isn't seeking _validation _of his mental state after a significant trauma from his mentor, nor does it want it. What he _wants _is some peace and quiet where he can finally process all that's happened, but he doubts he'll get it.

Hotch is waiting for them by the SUVs. He raises an eyebrow when he sees Reid limping all by himself and Gideon barely offering a hand, but quickly resumes his poker face and turns to Reid. The younger agent pretends not to see. "Where would you like to sit?" he asks Reid quietly. He's immensely grateful for his boss' understanding, for realizing that having the entire team surrounding him so suddenly after being in almost completely isolation for two days would be more than a little overwhelming.

"Second SUV, in the back," he says, eyeing the rest of his team pretending not to be looking at him from the first SUV.

"I'll sit with him," Gideon offers, already clambering into the SUV like Reid isn't even there. Hotch opens his mouth to protest, but Gideon's already tightening his seat belt and watching the two of them with a patient, expecting look on his face, combined with a little bit of puzzlement. _Why aren't you getting in? _he almost seems to be saying. To Reid, it feels like a challenge; another one of Gideon's tests. Pass it, and he gets a reward, like a dog being offered a treat. He remembers the things that the other FBI cadets used to call him back in the academy. _Gideon's little pet project. _Maybe they weren't so far off on that one after all, he thinks bitterly. Reid used to crave those moments of praise, where he would feel proud of himself for a few minutes and then go back to being desperate for his mentor's approval. If Gideon were to praise him right now, he'd feel a confusing surge of irritation and an urge to slap him.

Hotch gives a small nod to Morgan, who sets his jaw and starts the SUV. Hotch helps Reid into his own seat, pausing when Reid hisses through clenched teeth as his foot brushes against the floor at a particularly painful angle. _Your body doesn't matter. Your brain does. Protect it. _The drugs lurch terrifyingly in his pocket, and for a second he thinks that they'll fall out. They don't, instead rolling up against each other. There's a small _clink _as the two vials make contact, but the roar of the car engine drowns it out. _Crisis averted._

"Are we going to a hospital?" Reid asks, wincing as he feels his throat burning. He's only had a few small sips of water over two days, he realises, and even less food.

"Yeah," Hotch replies, subdued in a way that Reid's never seen him before. "Unless you'd be uncomfortable with that right now…" he trails off. He sounds _guilty, _Reid realises. Like the past two days have somehow been all his fault.

"No, no. That's good," he says hurriedly. "Can I just get some water?" he asks, eyeing up some bottled water rolling around on the floor.

"You okay?" Gideon says softly in that _same damn _fatherly tone, and Reid wants to scream. Gideon has his own particular brand of caring down to such an art that it feels overly perfected and plastic. All the correct words are there, but the conviction isn't. He doesn't bother gracing Gideon with a response.

_You don't know what's best for me. Not anymore, _he thinks, looking away from his mentor and turning his gaze to the outline of Georgia's horizon.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Reviews and feedback are adored and held in a special compartment of my heart - the part next to the part that thinks Gideon is a selfish ass.**

**The title comes from a movie from the 90s - **_**Closet Land. **_**The exact quote is "I don't trust lonely people. Life's eternal spectators, watching, waiting." Or something very similar to that. I'll explain more on it in later chapters.**

**Thank you for reading! ; v ;**


	2. morgan

**A/N: Thank you for the response to the first chapter! I'm hoping to update weekly, or more frequently. Knowing me, that probably won't last….But we can dream, right?**

**Warning for a vague mention of child abuse.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

o o o

_one hour after_

Morgan is the one that stays with him while they wait for the doctor to appear. Reid had politely asked the rest of the team to either wait outside or go to the twenty-four-hour café across the street; they obliged, filing awkwardly out of the room and avoiding eye contact with both Reid and Morgan. He'd managed to hide the drugs back in the SUV, under one of the seat cushions. Reid is a magician after all, and it's not his fault if his friends never learnt to watch for his misdirection. He's almost positive Gideon noticed something, but as of yet, the older man has said nothing on the matter. He supposes he'll have to wait for the older man to make the first move, because there's no way Reid is opening up to him right now. Nor is there a chance of anyone on the team getting through to him really, he thinks. _Right now, I just want to be left alone._

Morgan interrupts the silence by clearing his throat noisily. "Reid…" he begins awkwardly, in a hesitant tone that doesn't suit him. "How are you holding up?"

"Not great." Reid begins picking at his nails, noticing the two-day layer of dirt and grime stuck under them. "But not too bad, either. I'm sure it'll hit me sooner or later," he adds somewhat bitterly.

"You know, you can't bury this," Morgan tells him gently. Reid peaks an eyebrow as his temper flares, but lowers it as a sudden wave of exhaustion hits him and he's forced to lie down, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath through his nose.

"You okay?" Morgan asks in alarm, beginning to reach an arm out and suddenly halting in his tracks. It doesn't escape Reid's notice. A part of him is grateful that Morgan doesn't want to hurt him further, but another part of him is angry at Morgan's need to tiptoe around him like he's some fragile child he can't trust not to lash out.

"Fine. Just tired, suddenly." Reid shrugs. "I think that's understandable, given what's happened in the past two days." He doesn't feel like explaining himself, and hopes Morgan won't press the issue. If he lets too much slip and the team finds out he was drugged, he'll never be able to escape their constant watching over him. Instead he sits up slightly, taking a sip from the bottle of water by the bed and letting it soothe his dry throat. "You were certainly acting strange after you found me an hour ago." His tone is neither accusatory nor curious; just normal, impassive Reid. He's proud of how stable his voice sounds despite all that's happened, and wonders if he'll react the same way he did after Philip Dowd - waking up screaming from sudden nightmares, keeping his gun by his bed and having to physically stop himself from pulling the trigger at nothing.

Morgan peaks an eyebrow. "Strange?"

Reid shrugs. "Standing around, looking unsure, hesitating. The Derek Morgan I know wouldn't hesitate when he'd just rescued a coworker who had been missing for days."

"_Derek Morgan _would also be affected by a scenario in which one of his best friends was kidnapped and tortured for two days. And it was captured on video."

There's a long silence before Reid clears his throat softly and begins to speak again. "How much did you see?" he asks quietly, averting his eyes down to his lap. The injection sites in the crook of his elbow are beginning to sting, and he keeps one hand securely over his sleeve in case it rides up. He's sure Morgan notices, but without knowing what Tobias did to him, he doesn't think the older agent will be able to guess.

"On camera?" Morgan pauses to think. "You, beaten. You, tortured. You, _dying_. Tobias - our _unsub _- being the one to resuscitate you."

"Tobias was a good person." And he was, wasn't he? He'd given Reid the drugs to help him - not to torture him more, but to dull the pain that his other personalities had brought upon him. A kind of atonement for the things he couldn't control.

"He was also the one holding you captive. What does it say about our team that we had to let the man who was _torturing _you save you?"

"This isn't your fault." Reid still can't quite look Morgan in the eye, so he focuses on a point in the middle of his forehead instead. "If I wanted to make you feel like this was your fault, I wouldn't have asked for you specifically to be with me here. This isn't _anyone _here'sfault, so you can stop tiptoeing around me like I'm going to blame you, or yell at you."

"You think I'm being careful around you because I'm afraid you'll _yell at me?_" Morgan begins to bristle slightly, before exhaling deeply and crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm being careful around you because I know what it's like to feel.._violated _and traumatized, and I'm trying not to overstep your-"

"I don't think it's fair of you to _assume _what I'm feeling right now." Reid's tone is icy cold and he regrets it almost immediately, seeing the hurt flash across Morgan's eyes for a millisecond before he pushes it down again and swallows.

"You're right. I'm sorry." Morgan grits his teeth. "I should have-"

"The doctor's coming," he says quietly, interrupting his coworker like he wasn't even talking. "I'd appreciate it if I could deal with this alone now."

After a pause. Morgan gives a short, reluctant nod. "Remember what I said," he says, turning back toward the door. "If I know you even half as well as I think I do, I know you'll bury this."

And though he wants to deny it, deep down Reid knows his friend is right.

o o o

**A/N: Review and feedback are greatly appreciated and will probably prompt me into writing/updating/ more. Hint.**

**Thank you for reading!**


End file.
